My First International Trip (or It Can Never be this Bad Again!)

Missing travel during this time of Covid-19 isolation, I reminisced back to my first international trip, and thought you’d enjoy reading what I endured. In mid-January 1987, I was 19 ½ as I prepared to depart on a 5-month study abroad program in Chambery, France offered through CU-Boulder during the spring semester of my sophomore year. The plan was for our group of 18 students to make their own flight arrangements and meet-up in Paris before taking the TGV to Chambery for a semester at the Universite de Savoie. I had worked as a summer intern for American Airlines in Dallas the previous summer, and was granted a standby pass to fly to/from France. I had visited all 48 contiguous states (plus a bit of Canada and Mexico), so I was more than ready to hop an ocean and tackle Europe!

On the day of departure, my dad drove me to the Albany Airport to fly to Chicago and onward to Paris on AA. Dad left me with my bags and $500 in traveler’s checks (no credit cards, no cell phone (remember – this was 1987!). I soon discovered that my ALB-ORD flight was cancelled, and the only other transatlantic connection later that day was to Manchester, UK. I went to a travel agency in the airport and asked how much a flight would cost from Manchester to Geneva, Switzerland (realizing that I would arrive too late in Paris to meet up with my group). After waiting the hour for my dad to get back home (again, no cell phones!) I called him and explained the situation and asked him to come back to the airport and give me extra money so I could buy the additional ticket. I caught a later flight to ORD and was thankful for the upgrade to first class on the ORD-MAN flight (on a 762).

Upon arrival in MAN, I cleared customs, changed some money into French Francs (pre-Euro days) and headed to British Airways. Flew MAN-LHR only to find out that my LHR-GVA flight had been cancelled (due to snow). Found a BA flight to Lyon, France and asked to switch to that. Arrived in Lyon after dark and sought out a taxi. The driver would have been only too happy to drive me to Chambery, but the trip would be mega-expensive (over an hour), so I opted for a ride to the Lyon train station. Arrived at Lyon Perrache train station to discover that I had to connect to another train station, Lyon Part-Dieu, in order to catch the last train of the day to Chambery.

Arrived in Chambery around 9pm to a half-foot of fresh snow, exhausted and dealing with jetlag for the first time in my life. Grabbed a taxi and gave the driver the directions to our program director (Babette’s) apartment. Was dropped off on what looked to be a side alley. Knocked on the door of a building only to find out that the taxi driver had dropped me off at Rue du Theatre instead of the correct Boulevard du Theatre. I was exhausted, lonely and now wet (shoes soaked) while slogging my bag through the snow-covered sidewalk. Literally my only saving grace was me continually telling myself “It can never be this bad again!” Trudged a hundred feet or so to discover that Rue du Theatre turned into Boulevard du Theatre (score!) and saw an open park area and a nearby pay phone booth. Inserted my coins and dialed the Babette’s phone number. I could hear her voice, but she couldn’t hear me (lose!) I had the presence of mind to start calling out “Babette! Babette!” into the snowy winter night. A light appeared on a balcony across the park, up a few floors. I arrived in her warm apartment, took a shower and collapsed. She was thrilled to see me as she had no idea where I was or what had become of me. I stayed that night at Babette’s apartment and was united with my French host family (la famille Saint-Juvin) the following evening.

Throughout this entire experience, and the 24-hour period of the most convoluted travel I have ever encountered in my life, I don’t recall ever breaking down. With every twist and turn, I honestly just kept the faith and kept telling myself “It can never be this bad again!” During the past 33 years, 120+ countries and seven continents later, I have taken hundreds of trips and logged millions of miles around the world and never have I encountered such a bizarre series of figurative roadblocks and misfortunes. I'm thankful that my proficiency in French at that point saw me through, and I count myself lucky that I paid my dues on that first international trip!

Happy Travels!